


Fire Alarms

by dutchmoxie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is the tenth time this week we’ve had a fire alarm go of but uh… this time it was my fault" - Clarke's plan to impress Bellamy didn't go over too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Alarms

Whenever Bellamy Blake loudly argued with their landlord about the damn fire alarm going off again, she tried to nod vehemently along with him. After the first nine times, they’d started commiserating over their shared pains, and she knows that he is expecting her to do the same for the tenth lovely occasion.

Only there is just one tiny little problem with that.

This time, the fire alarm going off is her fault. And she would just die if Bellamy found out about that, especially after the way he was talking to the landlord this time. She couldn’t hear what he was saying exactly, but it is safe to say that he is pretty damn angry about something related to the damn alarm, and it makes her so damn uncomfortable.

Because there is a reason that she is to blame for the fire alarm going off. She was too busy thinking of gorgeous Bellamy Blake to realize that the cake she was baking him came out black and burned to soot. And then the alarm went off and she knew she had to face him in the mess of evacuation again.

It’s just so embarrassing. She has never been the kind of girl to bake stupid treats for a guy - she can’t bake anything that doesn’t come from a box - and she has certainly never been the kind of girl to get so distracted over a guy that she completely forgets what she is doing. And now she’s managed to do both of these monumentally stupid things in one night. Wow, she’s sure her parents must be proud of the mess their daughter turned in to.

Maybe after she’s done embarrassing herself in front of the gorgeous guy she has a crush on, she can call up her mother and make her day just a little bit worse. Abigail Griffin is never satisfied - there is always something more or something better her only child can do. Clarke Griffin is the perpetual disappointment.

And proud of it, damn it.

“I think we’ve managed some kind of record,” Bellamy walks up to her, an almost self-deprecating smirk playing at the corners of his undoubtedly delicious mouth.

“When I get back to my laptop, I’ll make sure to look it up,” she smiles awkwardly. “Would Guinness keep records of something like this?”

The banter is normally so easy for her, but this time she just wants the landlord to fix everything quickly so that she can go back to her apartment and hide the remnants of her failed attempt to woo Bellamy Blake. She will learn her lesson and never try such stupidity again. Clearly they are just meant to be snarky neighbors who make fun of the clueless people in their building. Anything more and she turns into one of the clueless herself.

Clarke Griffin, the valedictorian at her high school who was accepted into several Ivy League colleges, turns into a clueless dolt at the sight of love or like. She should be used to it at this point, but she is not. She can look at the most gruesome cadavers without flinching, but she can’t ask Bellamy Blake out for a cup of coffee.

“We’ll find out later,” Bellamy grins. “I can’t wait. The suspense is killing me.”

She looks down at the puddles on the street, not knowing what else there is to say without starting in on the topic of what caused the alarm to go off. And she will have to die of embarrassment when that happens.

“So, what do you reckon?” Bellamy fills the silence easily. “What happened this time?”

Clarke Griffin letting herself be foolish - that is what happened this time. Sure, she has been the butt of jokes before when her lack of cooking skills became the topic of conversation - the capable chemistry student being a bad chef was a neverending source of delight for her high school and pre-med friends. But now that she is actually in medical school, it should not be funny anymore. She should have learned by now.

“Foolishness,” she blushes as she says the words.

“Do tell,” Bellamy is no fool. “Is that a blush I see, Doctor Griffin?”

Ah yes, he likes to tease, and on occasion he almost goes as far as to flirt with her, and she wishes he would just muster up the courage to ask her out so she doesn’t have to. By the Gods, does she really have to do everything here? The cake was going to be her grand gesture, but seeing how spectacularly that failed… It’s time to give it a rest and move on.

“Is it, professor Blake?” she almost smiles at the PhD student.

“Why it is,” he lifts up her chin with a long finger. “Please explain.”

Her heart is pounding in her chest, even though she knows that her next words will make, or most likely break, this fragile connection that they have built in the cold nights of waiting outside. She will tell her friend Raven about her stupidity later, and the other girl will laugh before demanding she does something brave - keep trying, Raven would say.

“Because I am the world’s worst baker,” she sighs. “I was going to make you an apple and cinnamon cake - and then I forgot about the timer because of your stupid face.”

Petulant as she may sound, at least she is getting the truth out. That has got to count for something, at least. Right?

Bellamy laughs then, so loudly that the other residents start to stare angrily in their direction, mouths pursed at Bellamy’s delight at the situation. So Clarke tries to place a pale hand over his mouth to keep him from embarrassing her any further.

“Why is that so hilarious?” she hisses from between clenched teeth.

“Because I purposely wrecked my fire alarm,” he really tries to look innocent, but then his smirk reappears. “I pulled some wires so the damn thing would go off. I was hoping to see you again. I guess that plan worked.”

Her jaw drops. This cannot be real, this cannot truly be real. But if it is…

“How about I just give you my phone number?” she blurts out, trying to be smooth. “That way you won’t have to risk a fire to get in touch with me.”

“That might help,” he says innocently, grinning widely. “Or I could take you out for coffee and some baked goods tomorrow. We can discuss how two reasonably intelligent people would rather concoct crazy plans than just ask the other out on a date.”

She laughs alongside him then, and hopes the landlord won’t be too angry at them if they promise to stay away from flammable objects.

“It’s a date,” Clarke tells Bellamy. 


End file.
